Souldier
by CarlileLovesAnime
Summary: This is a oneshot written from Lal's POV about a certain, rather hilarious incident between her and Colonello. Hope you likey! Please R&R! T for swearing.


**Point #1: This was intended to be a one-shot. If I decide I want to do something more with it, or if enough of you people pester me about writing more, I will do something else Colonello x Lal Mirch-related.**

**Point #2: I apologize in advance for any OOC behavior. I wrote this at midnight. From Lal's POV. Give me a break. **

**Point #3: I'm not an idiot. I spelled 'soldier' with a 'u' on purpose. Believe it!**

**Point #4: This takes place after the chibi curses are lifted from the Arcobaleno, whenever that will be XD**

**Point #5: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, Colonello or Lal, or anything related to anything at all, so, por favor, NO SUING!! (Hasn't happened yet, but you can never be too careful.) Anyway, all I own is this computer and my cat. **

0o.o0o.o0

Life for me had always been summed up and represented by what happened to me one particular night: I went to bed after a so-so day, not quite productive but admittedly not the worst, with neither praise nor complaint, and only a little tossing and turning led to a beautiful sleep accompanied by a refreshing dream. At one a.m., it would all shatter into infinite little particles because of my ring tone.

The screen of the telecommunications device showed a candid photograph in bad light of the man that held the Yellow Pacifier, a shady, independent, sometimes cocky Arcobaleno by the name of Reborn. I had barely moved around in my warm bed to retrieve the mobile mechanism from my nightstand, and not willing to keep my arm out in the nippy air anymore I answered it, immediately programmed it to speaker, set it down uncaringly on the empty pillow next to me, and my arm dove back under the blanket.

"What?" I grunted. Well, why don't you try being patient when someone calls you in the dead of night?

"Lal, Colonello's at the Salone di Luci, apparently getting drunk off his ass. The rest of us are busy, so go pick him up." He hung up without even a word back from me. We had known each other long enough to know what to expect—I expected him to be blunt and to the point, and he expected me to do what he said without objection.

I half-sighed, half-yawned, and sat up in bed, feeling a rush of nippy air fill in the space between my back and the mattress. It took a few minutes altogether to get my whole self out from underneath the covers and adjusted enough to the frigid atmosphere, and not caring who saw me at an hour past midnight I combed through my hair in about three seconds, put on some beat-up denim short-shorts and a tank top, and left out the front door, which I slammed to both gather and release energy.

The night had only begun.

0o.o0o.o0

The line outside the Salone di Luci was long, loud, and chock full of weirdoes, and like the crowd waiting to get into ay night club whatsoever it moved very slowly. The fact that the bouncer was bumbling and incompetent didn't help in the least.

So, finally, like any angry and tired woman would do at one-thirty on a Saturday morning, I got fed up with the current situation and forced myself up the line, going along the red velvet rope the whole way and receiving (but most certainly ignoring) numerous dirty looks. I literally pushed the man aside that was currently speaking to the bouncer.

"Hi, 'scuse me," I said rigidly, "I'm here just to pick up my…" I stopped myself from saying the word 'friend', an inaccurate representation of the relationship between Colonello and me, and instead ended the sentence with, "…comrade."

The lanky, dark-skinned adult male guarding the door shook his head. "Nah-ah, Missay. Pay the fee, show me a invutashun, owa git on wit cha."

I smiled a bitchy smile. "Uh, ha. Let me say that again." I cleared my throat blatantly. "I'm only here to pick up my comrade. I won't even be in for two minutes."

"Naw. Now, please, git on."

Cocking my head slightly, narrowing my eyes, and furrowing my brow, I instantly figured out a away to gain entry into the establishment, with no money and no pass. With one hand I reached around behind me and took the gun out of my back pocket, and with the other I dug the silver chain around my neck out from down my shirt. I pointed the handgun at the bouncer's neck and cocked it while holding my silver-and-black-colored Pacifier in my other, open hand to show him. I didn't much like parading my Pacifier around, but it was all I had at the time, other than my pistol.

He winced at the clicking sound emitted from the firearm, and then the strangely-accented, highly inept, and now _corrupt_ bouncer absentmindedly observed my _Corrupt_ Pacifier for a moment before standings straight up and pointing to the entrance. "Ah! Ter'bleh sorreh, Miz Ar-co-ba-le-no! Hope ah din't cause no trub for ya. Go raht on ee-yun."

I scoffed and almost felt like laughing in amusement and triumph as I walked in through the door while tucking my weapon back in my pocket and sticking my Pacifier necklace down into my cleavage once again. I'd have to remember that those two objects were totally valid as a pass. But now, that wasn't my main goal.

The bar was the first place I set my eyes on, and coincidentally I saw the back of a man sitting on a stool there, one with messy blonde hair and army-green clothes. It had to be Colonello. Without even a pause I made my way straight over to the area.

I stood behind the Arcobaleno with the Blue Pacifier for a few seconds, silently wondering if he would notice my presence while also counting all the empty beer bottles set around him.

I knew perfectly well why he was drinking. His new tutee, whose identity was of the least importance right now, wasn't as promising as Colonello had hoped him to be. The trainee had just lost a major fight thanks to the Italian Comsubin Veteran's less-than-satisfactory instruction. While I found it odd of Colonello to sulk, I supposed with all the failures he had experienced lately, of course he'd be a little depressed.

Unable to wait any longer for the man sporting the camouflage headgear to notice me, I barked, "Colonello," in the same tone I used for chastising him back when he was my apprentice.

He spun around 180 degrees exactly on his stool. His blue eyes were dull and bloodshot, his face was bright red, and when he shouted slowly after taking a long gasp, "Lal! Hey!" I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

I scrunched my face in more astonishment than anything. "You're disgusting," I said sharply.

He grinned widely. "Thaaaaanks!" He then erupted into a thirty-second-long fit of laughter. Some of the other clubbers sitting around him also started laughing.

Shaking my head back and forth, I grabbed the blonde's shoulder and helped him off the barstool. I threw his arm around my own shoulders to aid him in walking through the flashing and bustling Salone di Luci interior.

The two of us were almost out of the building when I felt a quick stinging sensation on the back of my short-shorts.

I glared to my left instantly to find a man even more intoxicated than the one hanging off of me waving and beaming at me stupidly. I had never, ever been one to take shit from anybody, so before I could even blink I had the barrel of my gun pressed right up against the pervert's head. "Don't even think about it," I growled. I cocked my firearm for the second time that night, and the expression on his face had completely changed to nervous, sweaty, and pale.

For that one instant I had forgotten about the blue-eyed drunk I was supporting, until his slurred voice came to my ears. "Dude. Chill. Hey."

I glanced at my comrade quickly and uneasily and, frustrated with absolutely every single thing at that point, I took the handgun away from the stranger and shoved it back into my shorts pocket, though I would say I contemplated pointing the gun to _his_ stupid head for the umpteenth time in my life.

Thanks to brisk and hurried pace, Colonello and I were out the door and in front of my parallel-parked foreign sports car in nothing flat. I clicked the unlock button on my keys. The blonde stumbled out of my grip to the very edge of the curb and struggled and dawdled at the front passenger-side door for what seemed like forever.

"Hurry up," I commanded, watching my visible breath dissolve into the cold, "It's freezing out here."

He stopped outright and turned his whole upper body around to face me while his hands were still on the door handle. "Then you shouldn't have worn that shorts and tank top, Stupid. You don't have to wait for me." He hiccupped out "Hey!" before turning around and continuing.

I frowned. He had me, there. I mumbled, "Just hurry up. It's not that hard to open a door." I stepped around to the other side of the car and entered the automobile my own way.

0o.o0o.o0

Colonello was like a flimsy lump of dough in the seat next to me, flopping his whole body to and fro at the slightest movement. He hadn't said much, mostly because he knew never to speak to me while I was in a pissy mood. Only every once in a while he would read a sign aloud or speak of some nonsensical thing. I didn't feel like doing anything to respond other than a sarcastic nod. I had to concentrate on my driving, since it was dark and there was ice on the road and I wasn't that great of a driver anyway. We pulled up to a red light dangling from a thick cord above.

"Look," he choked out, attempting and failing to sound even remotely sober, "I'm sorry I made you come out here, hey. I've just been feeling bad lately."

I began to nod, but realizing this was not like any of his other comments, I replied to him with my eyes still on the road. "It's okay, I guess."

The light showed green and we turned right and continued going down the road quietly until the next stoplight.

"You know something, Lal?" he asked.

"What?" The second 'what' of the night was much kinder in tone than the first.

"I always thought you were really cool. Seriously."

"Thank you," I retort in quite a heartless manner.

"No, really, hey." I paid him a quick glance out the side of my vision when he shuffled a little in the leather seat, and by the time I focused on the road ahead of me again the light had turned green and my foot was pressing down on the accelerator.

He kept talking. "If I could have—hic!—anybody on my side in a fight, it would be you, you and your awesome…ness. You know?"

I simply smirked. I knew I was a fool to accept compliments from not just a moron, but a drunk moron, but I still couldn't help but feel flattered. Therefore, I returned the gratification. "I'd choose you, too, Colonello." I was unsure if that was really true, but I said it, anyhow.

We hit yet another red light right away. Oh, joy. At least I couldn't see another living soul around us to witness my admittedly awful driving.

He breathed in and out heavily a few times. Then he said with all sincerity, "Look at me, Lal."

I stared at the bright red light for a second or two before turning to face the holder of the Blue Pacifier. I didn't see him. But I felt him.

It was so abrupt, impulsive, so unexpected that as soon as I was in his full view he had leaned over the console lightning fast and locked his lips together with mine. Almost immediately, I felt his arms encircle me. The initial shock was enough to paralyze all my body and mind for about half a minute, but once I had processed what exactly was going on, I shut my eyes tight and relocated my hands from the steering wheel to the console top. Colonello's hands cupped over my cheeks, one after another. I let out a fairly quiet moaning sound when he pressed into me a little harder. He almost disconnected our mouths but then reattached them again, lips parted, and both our heads cocked to the sides. Our breath synchronized and became heavy; periodically one of us would make a short and muffled noise. Over and over. His thumbs stroked the back of my jaw, and the sensation of his smooth fingers against the rough scars on the side of my face let me forget how cold I was, how tired I was. None of it mattered, except for the blonde-haired, blue-eyed former soldier who sat beside me and held his lips against mine. He had frozen me to the point of no response, to the point that I was more intoxicated by him than he was by the alcohol.

Alcohol.

He didn't taste or smell like alcohol at all.

Now suddenly I couldn't wait for him to stop, not because I didn't love how he was making me feel, but because I wanted to bust him for faking being drunk.

Very gradually I turned my head upwards a few degrees per passionate kiss until my mouth was unavailable to him. I peeled open my eyelids and gazed at him, dreamily and observantly. I knew it!

The alcohol scent? The people next to him at the bar. The rosy cheeks? The chilly weather. The bloodshot eyes? The overwhelming lights. The weakness of posture? The fact that it was two in the morning. And the impaired speech and behavior? All just Colonello messing with me. He hadn't had a single drop of alcohol that whole night.

I put on a pleased and graceful countenance with an honestly fake smile when I leaned back away from him. He stared at me, too, with an innocent and surprised look, though.

My smirk seamlessly faded into a scowl once I was in my regular position. I raised my hand flat and close to his face. I had the full intention of slapping him silly, just like how I always used to, and sometimes did even now, and he knew it, expressed by a very pitiful countenance and lowering his head in shame. But something about him changed to me. I could not for the life of me bring myself to do it.

So I gently laid my hand on his cheek, and I leaned forward daintily one last time and kissed him quickly on his shut lips. His expression tightened into shock, happy shock, which was not really differentiable from any other shock; he held his head high; his blue eyes lit up; his mouth came ajar ever so slightly.

Grinning gently at him now, I then took my hand off his cheek and joined it along with the other on the steering wheel. I knew he was completely frozen in surprise as I couldn't sense him moving. Right away the light turned green for probably the thousandth time since we had arrived at that one stoplight.

Life for me had always been summed up and represented by what happened to me one particular night: I awoke the morning before impatient, and for the remainder of the day watched as my self esteem and attitude plummeted, until a phone call breaking my fake serenity eventually brought along my soldier to pull me back up.


End file.
